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Ahsoka is gone.
Anakin watches her go, follows her movement from the Temple steps until he can follow her no longer, waiting for– something. For Ahsoka to turn back, for his body to catch up with his mind and chase after her, for some member of the Council to appear in front of him so that he can yell at them without needing to make his way back inside.
He can feel the shadow of the Temple looming over him. It’s at his back, as ever, and it chills him to the bone.
He cannot go back in. Certainly not yet, not when he knows that he’ll scream if someone looks at him with too much pity, which the Jedi seem to be full of when it comes to him.
Poor boy. He lost his Padawan, and he’s still so young!
Anakin doesn’t feel young. He’s covered in scars and he’s shed blood on more planets than most people could probably list and he just fucking lost Ahsoka.
No, he cannot face the Jedi right now.
So instead, Anakin does what he always does when his own existence is unfamiliar to him, and he makes his way to the Senate building.
///
The Chancellor makes time for him.
The Chancellor always seems to make time for him, which Anakin knows that he shouldn’t take advantage of, but there is an easiness between the two of them that Anakin is loath to feel guilty about. Still, he tries to respect the Chancellor’s time by skipping formalities with him. If it brings Anakin a fierce joy to avoid the useless words favored by the Coruscant-born around him, then the world does not need to know.
“Ahsoka left the Order,” Anakin says, taking a seat across from the Chancellor when he is motioned to.
“What a pity,” the Chancellor murmurs, “that such things sometimes cannot be helped. I’m sure that you will miss her terribly.”
“I will.” It comes out almost angry, when Anakin tries to prevent his voice from cracking on the last word. The Chancellor must notice, because he simply nods at Anakin and waits for him to continue.
When Anakin was younger, he would cry freely in front of the Chancellor. His fits of passion seemed to leave Obi-Wan doubtful, grasping for a way to make his Padawan more like the Temple child he had been promised. He needed an outlet, and the Chancellor had always been more than generous to him.
He’s hundreds of battles away from that child now, though, and takes only a moment to arrange his thoughts into concrete sentences.
“I wish she wasn’t right. I wish I hadn’t failed her.”
“Don’t think that way, Anakin,” he says. “This failure has nothing to do with you. You did an admirable job in the situation. In fact, I’m impressed by your quick action to defend her. It was above and beyond the call of duty.”
“She’s my Padawan,” Anakin says.
“Was your Padawan,” the Chancellor murmurs, nodding sympathetically. Anakin feels his stomach drop.
“Was,” he corrects himself, slowly.
There is a silence in the conversation. The Chancellor is watching him, his head tilted slightly to the side.
He never asks Anakin direct questions when he knows that there is something more to say, even though he seems to have another sense just to hold it, the knowledge of when Anakin is holding his emotions back. Instead, he always waits. Anakin doesn’t mind the moments of quiet that stretch between them. The Chancellor expects his honesty, and then accepts it without correction, and that is how things are between them.
“I would have left,” Anakin says quietly, finally. “If she had asked. No question.”
It’s the heart of the thing, and the Chancellor leans forward in his chair with wide eyes.
“Oh, Anakin,” he says, “you are truly an honorable Jedi. Perhaps too honorable, even. I’m sure Tano understood that. However, no matter how she thinks of you, I am truly glad that she chose not to ask you to join her. I don’t know what I would do here without you, my dear boy.”
Anakin bows his head. “Thank you, Chancellor.”
There is a knock on the door. The Chancellor rises to his feet. Anakin mirrors him.
“I’m afraid I have another engagement,” he says, smiling. “The work of the Republic never ceases! I’m sure that the Council keeps you quite busy as well.”
As he passes by Anakin, the Chancellor places a hand on his shoulder. Anakin leans into the touch, and both of them pretend not to notice.
“Anakin,” the Chancellor says, “you should be less humble. You saved a life today.”
“I’m a Jedi.”
“Well, of course. Still, there are thousands of Jedi on Coruscant. Pardon me, but you seem to be the only one who was willing to defend the word of one of their own.”
And with that, the Chancellor is gone, shutting the door behind him and leaving Anakin to find his own way back.
///
As Anakin enters the Temple, he gives the door a light push with the Force. A guard catches it to prevent it from slamming, and Anakin does not stay behind to greet them. Instead, he turns into a stairwell as quickly as possible and rushes to his room. His only company is his own footsteps, and he prefers it that way, at least until he turns a corner and stops in his tracks.
Obi-Wan is sitting in the hallway outside his door, working through piles of paperwork on his datapad. Something comes loose within Anakin, some knot that he did not even know he was holding until the moment that it disappears, only ever defined by its absence.
“Old man,” Anakin says, “how long have you been sitting here?”
“Oh, not all that long, really,” Obi-Wan says, setting his datapad beside him in a too-casual way that Anakin knows like he knows his own name. “The Council meeting just let out, and I figured that I should try to see my Padawan.”
Even the mention of the word Padawan brings all of Anakin’s emotions flooding back. He pushes them aside, tries to release them into the Force like Obi-Wan taught him before his Master can register his private outburst.
“In that case,” Anakin says, “I guess I’m late.”
“Nothing I’m not used to.”
Anakin tries to laugh, but he’s afraid that it sounds too forced, because Obi-Wan moves to make space for him on the bench.
“It’s perfectly fine, Anakin,” he says. “Today has been difficult– especially for you, I’d imagine. Don’t apologize for taking your time.”
“Well,” Anakin says, “thank you for giving your permission, my Master.” He rolls his eyes as he settles on the bench.
“I hope that your talk with the Chancellor helped, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says.
It’s almost impossibly gentle. Anakin wishes that he would just continue his jokes.
“Yep,” Anakin says, and does not elaborate.
“If you need anything, just ask me. I’m already working on the necessary paperwork to give you a break from the war. I’m sure everyone will understand, after what happened with Ahsoka–”
“Don’t, ” Anakin growls, “mention her. If you want to help me, then never say her name again. And redo the paperwork. Ship me out tomorrow, if you can.”
Obi-Wan’s brow furrows, but he nods. “I’ll get on it. I’m sure that it can be arranged, there hasn’t exactly been a shortage of losing battles to turn the tide on lately. Do you want the 212th and I to join you?”
Anakin releases a breath and considers the offer.
“Yeah,” he says. “That would be great, actually.”
He doesn’t sleep. Instead, he surrounds himself by battle plans, making corrections wherever he can. He doesn’t have Rex by his side to keep him sane, but that’s not an issue, because the next time that he sees Rex he’ll have to break the news.
He keeps himself as busy as possible, and when the Temple feels too empty, he reminds himself that he’ll be gone when the sun rises.
After all, the war needs him. And clearly not even a single Jedi does, anymore.